


An Abundance of Capers

by C-chan (1001paperboxes)



Category: Leverage, Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-29
Updated: 2017-03-29
Packaged: 2018-10-12 11:56:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10490385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1001paperboxes/pseuds/C-chan
Summary: After being stuck with an abnormally large order of capers, the brewpub gains a new, very handsome, very rich regular. The crew are curious, but certainly aren't complaining.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lalunaticscribe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lalunaticscribe/gifts).



> So someone's been trying to get me to watch Leverage for a while. Thanks to the prompt inspiring this work, I've now watched the entire show.
> 
> Happy April Fools. I hope you enjoy.

Eliot sighed as he surveyed the crates lining the kitchen storeroom.

"Yep. That's a hundred pounds of capers." He popped the lid off of one of the jars, carefully sampling its contents. "Pungent but delicate, definitely French."

At that, Hardison gave an incredulous look. "You can tell where they're from by taste?"

Eliot shrugged. "They have a very distinctive taste."

Parker just grabbed a jar of her own, fished one out, tried it, made a considering face, then sat down and began eating its contents. "So what do we do with them?"

Eliot smiled. "We cook 'em."

* * *

"Who's that at table 29?" Parker asked as Amy walked by with a tray of empty dishes.

"I don't know his name yet," the server admitted apologetically. "He's handsome, though, isn't he? Been here almost every day since the chef's specials started including capers. Actually pointed to one in his chicken piccata and asked me what it was. Apparently it's not something he's used to having. Said it was _vkusno,_ though. I don't know what that..."

"It's Russian. I… think it means good."

Amy shrugged. "Probably, since he's ordered the chef's special every day."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I've started calling him Evgeni in my head 'cause he kind of reminds me of Plushenko. You know, the figure skater."

"Huh," Parker replied, and went back to working on the mass of wires she was configuring into something potentially useful. A new hot guy around the brewpub certainly wasn't a bad thing, especially when he seemed the type to be naturally charismatic. If push come to shove, maybe he'd make an easy mark, or a good ally. Or, maybe, he'd just find somewhere else to eat after a while. She gave a final tug, making sure everything was secure. Only time would tell.

* * *

"Is that what I think it is?" Parker asked, peering at a blown-up image from their security cams as she delved into some leftover Kapernschnitzel.

"Yep," Hardison agreed easily. "1976 Cadillac Eldorado Brougham. Elvis edition. Fleet wood, white interior. Valued at around eight million."

Elliot whistled. "Nice car."

Parker shook her head and sighed. "It's too easy a mark. Hot pink is a pretty noticeable colour. Black, white, champagne, red, those are the colours you want to steal. Lots of similar cars on the road. Easier to blend in. Bet it would be awesome to test-ride, though."

"We're the good guys now," Hardison reminded her, catching her hand in his own and giving it a little squeeze.

"We are," she agreed, foisting her hand free to grab at another piece of schnitzel. "But maybe just one little ride…."

* * *

"He's Victor," Amy exclaimed, setting down two delicious looking glasses as she took a set in back with Parker.

"Who is?" Parker asked, reaching for the nearer of the two. It was red—fruity—and tasted just enough of alcohol to make her grin.

"Evgeni," Amy replied. "Or, well, Victor. The cute Russian guy—oh, you were right there, by the way. He's lived in Japan for a while too, I think."

"Well-travelled guy."

"Yeah," Amy agreed. "He was extra friendly today. Almost offered me a bite of his salad. I'd say he's totally my type but…."

"He's probably part of the Russian Mafia?"

"He's gay."

"Oh. Yeah. That'd do it too."

"Yeah. He keeps talking about his boyfriend, Yuri. Seems head over heels—it's really adorable. But he's away on a business trip or something; Victor says he wants to bring him when he's home."

"So we might have several hot gay guys around?"

"That'd be nice. Even better if they brought some hot, straight, friends." Amy sighed, then frowned as she glanced toward the closed-circuit television monitor. "You… don't really think he's part of the Russian Mafia, do you?"

* * *

"I don't think his boyfriend is Russian," Hardison notes, gesturing to the a/v feed featuring their now-regular guest feasting on a green-coated salmon filet.

"Of course he is," Parker replied, plopping down beside him on the couch. "Yuri is a Russian name."

"Now, that's where it gets complicated," Hardison responded, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "Yuri can be a Russian name, but then it's pronounced with a Russian R. _Yuri._ A probably-Russian man, such as Victor, would have no problem saying something like that. But he pronounces it differently, more of an L-sound, kinda with an east Asian twist. _Yuuri._ " 

Parker shook her head. "No way. Russian R's are really easy to spot, and it's totally _Yuri._ "

"Are you going deaf or something? Because I'd put a ton of money on it being a Japanese R. _Yuuri._ "

"Maybe your electronics are picking up too much static and you're missing the sound altogether. Because it's definitely _Yuri._ "

" _So then Yuuri and Yuri both decided to_ …."

Eliot's voice cracked through the earpieces, annoyed. "Guys, I think there's two of 'em."

* * *

"Aren't those, like, $4.5k sunglasses?" Parker asked. 

Hardison beamed. "Porsche design, gold rimmed, pure wearable decadence."

"Nice!" Parker exclaimed, plucking them right off Hardison's head to gain a closer look. "Definitely not a knockoff either. No-one ever gets the etchings right. How'd you land these?"

"Well, as you know, I take charge of closing up the shop three nights a week, and—"

"Usually forget to properly disinfect all the tables," Eliot interjected.

"Excuse me? I pride myself in taking care of every last inch of—"

" _Poorly_ taking care of every last inch of—."

"The glasses were under table 29, on top of which was left a _quite_ generous tip."

"Huh. So they're probably Vlad's then."

Parker shook her head. "No, no. Vlad was Sophie's Stanley Cup guy. This guy's Victor."

Eliot frowned. "You sure about that?"

"Yeah. Amy told me the day you made the tilapia with salad and the weird fish-mayo sauce."

"It's called tartar sauce and it's a staple in many countries."

"You mean it's not just fish-mayo sauce?"

Eliot bristled. " _Tartar sauce._ "

"Fine," Parker rolled her eyes. "Tartar sauce. Whatever."

Appeased, Eliot turned his attention back to Hardison. "So are you going to give them back?"

"And miss out on a chance on this swiggidy-swag?"

And with that, the glower was back. "You did not say swiggidy-swag. He did not just say swiggidy-swag."

Hardison raised his hands, still donning an easy smile. "I'm just saying it as it is."

"So you're not giving them back then," Parker concluded.

"Let's see if he misses them first," Hardison suggested. "If he does… maybe I can be talked into something reasonable."

Parker shrugged. "Fair enough by me."

* * *

"So what's today's chef's special?" Parker asked, hoisting herself up to sit on the counter, much to Eliot's chagrin, "Capers and cheese? Caper pizza? Grilled capers on a bed of capers with caper sauce?"

Eliot smiled. "Butternut squash ravioli in a sundried tomato white wine cream sauce served with fresh greens and a lemon basil vinaigrette."

Parker flashed him a confused look. "That sounds…. Not very caper-y."

"Well, Parker, that'd be because we used the last of it up in yesterday's Italian salsa verde." His grin widened as he cracked some pepper into a white sauce bubbling on the stove. "I can finally spread myself in other directions again."

"Feels pretty good, doesn't it?" Parker asked, stealing a bite and beaming as wide as Eliot. The food tasted of freedom and deliciousness. It was good was just that good.

"You know what? It really does."

* * *

Parker rushed into the back, her expression concerned as she approached the other two on their lunch break. "Did I just see Victor walking out of the restaurant?"

"With two other guys, yeah," Hardison confirmed. "Apparently he wanted to show them the caper dishes and was disappointed when we weren't carrying any today. Said he'd try back another time."

"Huh," Parker replied, pulling up a third chair. "He's gonna be pretty disappointed then, huh Eliot?"

Eliot, however, was otherwise distracted. "That was Victor?"

Hardison and Parker both nodded.

"I mean he's only been in here about every day for the past month….

"Give me a closeup on that guy."

Hardison scrambled to comply. "Sure thing, Eliot, but why….."

Eliot gave out a low swear. "That's Victor Nikiforov."

His compatriots looked at him, confused. "Who?"

"Victor Nikiforov," he repeated. "One of the top names in figure skating for, like, the past decade?"

Parker raised her eyebrows. "You follow figure skating?"

"They pull off athletics while practically skating on knives," he explained. "How am I the only one to find this impressive?"

"So you're saying all this time we've had a famous figure skater in here eating our food?"

"Eating _my_ food, yes."

"And he liked it so much he brought his entourage—"

Eliot pointed to each of Victor's companions in turn. "Yuri Plisetsky and Yuuri Katsuki. The only two to ever break his records to date. I _knew_ there was something weird about those names."

"Wait," Parker interjected. " _Three_ top level figure skaters? How the hell did we miss this?"

Hardison shrugged. "I don't run recognition scans on all of our patrons. Even I find that a little creepy."

"But he has a super expensive car and brilliant sunglasses."

" _I_ have brilliant sunglasses. He hasn't even missed them."

"And you never—"

"Well what do you want me to do? Become a super stalker on everyone who comes in here?"

"No," Parker replied, shoving Hardison away from the computer, "but I've got an idea."

The boys shared a look as Parker opened a search tab, and entered a now far-too familiar word.

"Parker, what are you doing?"

"If Victor wants capers to come back….."

Eliot blanched. "No, no, I am done cooking with those. I do not want to be stuck with—"

Parker whirled around, delivering a hard look. "Do you want superstar clientele or not?"

"Fine," he sighed. "Just. See if you can get Moroccan ones this time. At least they have a different flavour profile…."

**Author's Note:**

> All of Victor's swag comes straight from [the cover of PASH! Illustration File 2017](http://www.cdjapan.co.jp/product/NEOBK-2043565). ([Larger image here](https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-hUDmbz8BPAg/WIE3J9k7AmI/AAAAAAAAA7E/uZ__jU2qpUgN3c6qHXuRo8ipKp229ywzACJoC/w1536-h2048/SCREAMSS.jpg))


End file.
